


Summer Wine

by gnostic_heretic



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Historical, LietPol Week 2018, M/M, Mutual Pining, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Trans Male Character, s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-20 12:03:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13717308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gnostic_heretic/pseuds/gnostic_heretic
Summary: Poland couldn't help but feel a little guilty about lazing around like that, but the sight was too stunning from there,and what a sight!The rows of vines following one another, the beautiful blue sky.The sweat on Lithuania's back, making his shirt stick to his body in a way that made it sopainfullyhard to glance away from it.He was, probably, the only man wearing a shirt in the heat of August- and Poland knew why.He knew it too well, and since he had been questioned first, he decided to ask the same question back.One-shot written for day 7 of Lietpol Week- historical





	Summer Wine

 

 

 

> _Tears emphasized her prayer; the goddess seemed to move—in truth it was the altar moved; the firm doors of the temple even shook—and her horns, crescent, flashed with gleams of light, and her loud sistrum rattled noisily._
> 
> _Although not quite free of all fear, yet pleased by that good omen, gladly the mother left the temple with her daughter Iphis, who beside her walked, but with a lengthened stride._
> 
> _Her face seemed of a darker hue, her strength seemed greater, and her features were more stern._
> 
> _Her hair once long, was unadorned and short._
> 
> _There is more vigor in her than she showed in her girl ways. For in the name of truth, Iphis, who was a girl, is now a man!_
> 
> _Make offerings at the temple and rejoice without a fear!—They offer at the shrines, and add a votive tablet, on which this inscription is engraved:_
> 
> _these gifts are paid_
> 
> _by Iphis as a man which as a maid_
> 
> _he vowed to give._

 

Poland remembered the first time he had read those words, the feeling still vivid and clear like it had happened yesterday, or earlier that morning.

When truly, it had happened a couple hundred years before, when he had been confined between the walls of the small court that had been reserved for him, and him only in the Castellany of Połaniec; an isolated place hidden in the woods and forests of the Duchy of Sandomierz.

The building, an ancient monastery, had been abandoned when the monks that had previously owned it had been found guilty of heresy. It was a lonely, solitary confinement, with little to do but cooking and embroidery to spend his time. But the monks that had inhabited it had left behind some books, much to Poland's relief.

He enjoyed the quiet, at least at first- and the space he had all for himself, unlike the small, cluttered house he came from. But the loneliness always came back biting, scattered memories of his village and his family and his _mother_ , bright and slow and quiet as a vision.

When the walls of the monastery became too tall, the corridors too narrow, and his breath became heavy and painful, there was nothing like taking a walk in the small cloister and sit under one of the simple stone columns with a book in his hands- and daydream.

On most occasions, he read the Holy Bible: he still remembered what his mother had told him about God, and about his Verb. At least once a day, retire in quiet prayer, meditate about the word of God. It was not like she had actually taught him how to read the Bible- it was not like she actually knew how to read, anyway. But his brothers had the possibility to go to the nearest monastery, become monks, and learn; he did not.

_Girls cannot learn how to read or write. A woman’s feeble mind is simply not made for it._

Out of pure spite he had taught that to himself, with an old and worn-out abecedary he had found in the library, left behind by a teacher or a student; forgotten, and he was so grateful for the carelessness of its previous owner. It took him a couple of years, but step by step, the letters and words became easier on his hands and his mind. The passages were always those, unchanged, reassuring.

How many times had he read the story of the creation, his favorite?

_In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters. And God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light._

Sometimes, when the nights were dark and he had run out of candles- without knowing when the Duke would be back to give him new ones, he liked to repeat those words to himself.

"Let there be light", he whispered in the cold, still air of his cell.

Nothing happened. _Of course_ , he thought; _certain things, only God can do._

 

_He was told that humans were created by God, that they were all His children._

_He was told that he was not a human, that he was special._

_That was why the Duke had taken him away from his family, and now was keeping his presence a secret;_ all people who find those like you _, he had said,_ are destined to rise to the top. Do you understand what I mean?

_He did not understand._

_All he had been told was that he was, for the lack of a better explanation,_ the country of Poland.

_How could that be possible? How could a person be a country?_

_Or if it was true, how could he_ not _be a human being?_

_Was he a child of God? He wasn't even sure, at this point, if he was his mother's child- let alone God's._

_Almost every day, in the silence of his solitude, he walked towards an old, carved sheet of silver hanging on a corridor wall, and he got undressed._

_He took off his dress, the veil covering his hair._

_He didn't like the person staring back at him; even in the blurred reflection, he could see the shape of his body. The dip of his hips. The curve of his breasts._

_From the grooves that marked the plate, the eyes of the Virgin were staring at him, judging him._

Young woman _, they seemed to speak,_ your thoughts are a blasphemy, and your existence a sin.

_He adjusted his long hair to cover his chest and stomach, hoping that his own reflection would become less unpleasant to his sight, that his shame would subside. But all it did, he realized, was making him look even more like a teenage girl._

But _, he thought,_ definitely a person; a human being _._

_This year (he knew, because he had counted every single birthday) he would be turning forty-five._

 

It had been a few weeks after his forty-seventh birthday that he had felt like going to the library and look for something else to read, something other than the Holy Bible.

A life of quiet contemplation was a good, holy thing- but after all, sometimes, it got _boring_.

He found after a minute of searching, forgotten on a shelf, an old and heavy parchment manuscript covered in dust.

_Publius Ovidius Naso. Metamorphoseon libri._

He picked it up with a grin, and could barely contain his excitement- he had a good feeling about this book, somehow, a feeling of anticipation that he could not explain. That day, his walk into the corridor that took him to the secluded cloister felt merrier than ever.

 

* * *

 

 

"And so", Lithuania said, his breath huffed and heavy in the summer heat, "is that how you knew?"

"Yes, that's it, basically."

Comfortably laying on top of a small hay stack on a pushcart, he watched as Lithuania put his strength into the harvest of sweet, ripe grapes: the ones that had matured early, to be turned into juice for wine as soon as the day would be over.

"What I did was, like, I cut my hair short, like it is now. It was hidden by a veil anyway, so the Duke would not notice. I thought I'd wait for the old man to die, after all those years, and take back my freedom. The way I wanted it.”

He made it sound so simple, when it was really anything but.

He had not mentioned the sleepless nights, his prayers to the Virgin Mary to make a miracle happen, like Venus and Hymenaios had done for Iphis. “And then I sewed myself some clothes... new clothes. If you know what I mean. My mother could not teach me how to read, but she taught me how to sew well enough."

Lithuania made a grunt of understanding, or approval- or simply, a grunt of fatigue as he kept on with his work. Poland couldn't help but feel a little guilty about lazing around like that, but the sight was too stunning from there, _and what a sight_!

The rows of vines following one another, the beautiful blue sky.

The sweat on Lithuania's back, making his shirt stick to his body in a way that made it so _painfully_ hard to glance away from it.

He was, probably, the only man wearing a shirt in the heat of August- and Poland knew why.

 _He knew it too well_ , and since he had been questioned first, he decided to ask the same question back.

"What about you, Liet? How did you know..."

"Hm? Me?"

"Yeah."

Lithuania wiped the sweat from his forehead, turning halfway to look at Poland in the eyes.

Poland _gulped_.

The dip of his neck. The curve of his hips. The intensity of his gaze.

 _Oh my god_ , he thought, _could the sun get even hotter, today_?

"I don't know", Lithuania said, adjusting his ponytail- _and Poland stared at those hands, those wonderful, wonderful hands, raw with cuts and dirty of sweet, red grape juice_ \- "I guess I just always lived as I wanted? When I was younger, it was different.

None of my people thought it strange. _Rare_ , maybe, but not bad. _People like us_... it was just another part of life, and human nature. I simply picked my name at my coming of age, and went with it."

Lithuania turned away once again, focused on the harvest.

_His name, eh._

Poland could count on his fingers the times when he had heard Lithuania's name.

 _One_ , on the day they met, whispered to him by Lithuania himself after they were done with formalities.

 _Two_ , on the day of their wedding, pronounced by the Bishop of Kraków as he begrudgingly sealed their marital vows.

_What God has joined, men must not divide._

_Three_... he could, off the top of his head, not remember a third time.

 

* * *

 

 

Lithuania could not wait for the day to be over, or at very least, for the sun to set.

The heat on his back and head was unbearable, and he just knew that tonight he would go to sleep with a migraine. The fact that Poland was sitting on his ass instead of helping him certainly did not help- although, in an odd way, it made him feel motivated to prove him how much his work was needed around there. For someone who made fun of him constantly, calling him a _peasant_ , and a _savage_ , and a _heathen_ , he sure relied a lot on him when it came to actually using his hands instead of _talking, talking, talking_.

Until suddenly, he heard a creak behind him- and saw Poland himself, _his Highness_ , walking closer to him.

He furrowed his brows, confused; had he finally decided to get his hands dirty, and get some work done? _Impossible_ , he thought, _just look at that smile on his face_.

And indeed, he looked at that smile- more than looked, _stared-_ and his heart, inexplicably skipped a beat.

The pink flush of his cheeks. His silky blond hair, glimmering in the sun. The bright green of his eyes.

 _Oh my god_ , he thought, _could the sun get even hotter, today?_

As Poland got closer to him, right into his personal space, he pressed a hand - _and Lithuania stared at those hands, so soft, and smooth, and pale, hands that smelled like spices and perfume ointment, so strangely enticing..._

He pressed a hand on his shoulder, and demanded his attention.

"Hey, Tolys."

Lithuania flinched; what was with that, just now?

"Let's go inside", Poland said, "you look so tired. I'll get something sweet to drink for you."

"Poland."

"Yes?"

"What did you just... did you just call me?"

Poland smiled again, his face inching closer to Lithuania's, _so close_ -

" _Tolys_."

He said it again, and something, something about the way his lips had moved to spell his name, red and plump and beautiful, made Lithuania's head spin. _So much that he had to physically lean on a vine-_

 

Thank goodness, Poland had picked him up from under his shoulders before he could fall to the ground, wrapping Lithuania's arm around his neck.

_Oh my god, you were going to faint there! Let's go back inside, I've had enough of this nonsense anyway! Why would we even have to take part in this, I have no clue..._

Lithuania heard him talking, but truth to be told, he was not really listening to what he was saying- just to the sound of his voice, so very close to him.

 

His voice, so _mesmerizing_ , so sweet... like the taste of fruit and summer wine when Lithuania leaned in to steal a kiss from his lips, a gesture that made Poland aggressively blush.

 

" _What- Liet, what was that for_?", he almost yelled, and Lithuania noticed that Poland's voice was cracking into high-pitched notes as he quickly backed away from him.

"Hm, I wonder.", Tolys hummed to himself, almost pleased at the outraged way his _husband_ was looking at him now. “We are _married_ , Poland. Why do you mind so much?”

Poland huffed in response, swinging his hand in the air in a gesture Lithuania did not recognize.

"Enough nonsense, let's go! It's like, boiling hot here."

 

Lithuania followed him closely, his lips curled into a smile.

"Yes, _Feliks_. As you wish."

**Author's Note:**

> So, this fanfic is supposed to be... more or less of a parallel to the first fic I ever posted, De Natura Amoris.  
> The historical references are like... loosely historical... and I'm not claiming to be accurate with this at all, hah! But I hope you can enjoy this anyway. :) I poured a lot of personal feelings and experiences into this fanfiction; and even if you cannot relate personally, I hope some of it will somehow touch your heart.  
> I also put a lot of my headcanons on how the nations come to exist in this world, and hopefully it's clear enough to be understandable...!  
> Thank you for reading, and to anyone who always shows their support for my work- you're the best, seriously! <3


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